


Giving In

by SegaBarrett



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 10:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walt and Jesse unwind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giving In

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Breaking Bad, and I make no money from this.
> 
> Written for kink-bingo, prompt "bondage (other)".

Jesse lay on the bed, very, very still. And very quiet. He, for now, had none of his usual quips or complaints. Instead, he was preparing. His mind was cycling though what they were about to do, and he was trying to figure out whether he was excited, terrified, or some combination of the two.

Mr. White had the ropes in his hand. It would take a long time to get it right. If Jesse wiggled around too much, it could screw up everything.

So he stayed very calm and very still. He focused on his breathing and the sound that it made. It was a nice sound.

And, despite how it might have appeared to an onlooker, what Mr. White would soon be doing was a nice thing. Something Jesse actually enjoyed, though he didn’t understand why. 

He breathed out again as Mr. White began to thread the ropes together, began to tie them around Jesse’s legs. Then between them, pressing against one thigh, and upwards  
vertically through his chest. Letting it get a little slack as it went behind his neck and then back over his arm to attach him to the bedpost.

“Mr. White.”

“Shhh, Jesse,” Mr. White calmed him. He paused to run a hand over Jesse’s bare chest and let out a little humming sound. “Just close your eyes. You’re okay. Protected.”

He listened to the older man’s instructions. He liked this. He couldn’t get up and run even if he wanted to. Somehow there was comfort in that, in ways Jesse didn’t understand. Everything was tight around him, and it ached a little, but mostly it just shut him in. Surrounded him, like a cocoon or something.

Mr. White kept talking as Jesse shifted his focus, now that his eyes were shut, to all of the little sounds in the room. The sound of rain outside, beating against the windows. Mr. White’s breathing, steady and deep. Now that he was out of the woods, at least temporarily, it had changed – he didn’t cough anymore, that horrible cough where Jesse had wanted nothing more than to just reach out and take care of him, take it away.

Now he could take care of Jesse instead. Because Jesse needed it. He needed to be held, tightly, affixed to a spot. Kept secure.

There was nothing to be afraid of while Mr. White was guarding him. That was what the older man had kept telling him, the night after they found the ricin cigarette. Then this had started, this testament to the fact that Mr. White was the only one Jesse could count on.

“How do you feel?” Mr. White’s voice was in his ear, now. It was almost as if it were hovering. Jesse opened his eyes and looked over at him. 

“Safe,” he whispered. It sounded so silly to say out loud, but it was true. He moved, wiggled a little bit, but there wasn’t much room to move around it. 

“That’s good,” Mr. White replied. “Because you are. Very safe with me. Always safe with me, as long as we stick together.”

Jesse hummed. That was right. All they really had was each other, when they got down to it. No other person knew the things that he and Mr. White had seen. 

“Going to touch you now,” Mr. White whispered, and he trailed his fingers down Jesse’s chest, over the rope around his thigh and down to his cock, but didn’t take it in hand. Not yet.

“Mr. White, please,” Jesse gasped out. The older man shook his head.

“Trust me, Jesse.”

He did.

Jesse let his eyes shut again. To show him. To let him know how much he really did trust him, as much as he knew that maybe he shouldn’t. That Mr. White could manipulate people, could twist people, had maybe twisted him many, many times in the past.

But he trusted him.

“Mr. White,” he whispered simply, and then he felt the pressure around his cock, the heat. It was like he could sense every groove in Mr. White’s hand, every callous, every little mark or cut or whatever he had going on there. It was intense. 

“It’s okay, Jesse.”

Mr. White’s voice was softer and more soothing than Jesse could ever remember it being. What had changed? When had the older man decided to start being nicer to him? Or, maybe, when had Jesse started to deserve it?

He didn’t know. Maybe it had been when Gus had tried to spirit him away, make him one of his own men, mold him into his own chemist. Gus should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy, that Jesse was loyal. So loyal to Mr. White.

Always loyal to Mr. White…

He let out another little gasp and wriggled again, finding that, again, he couldn’t really move. 

Something welled up in his throat. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t feel despair or heartbreak or whatever normally drove him to cry… Instead, it was just a feeling of intensity, like every switch was on at once and he wasn’t entirely sure if he could take it. He would run away if he could. But he couldn’t; he was here, affixed firmly to this bed and attached eternally to Mr. White, whether he wanted to be or not.

Another stroke sent a little shudder through him.

“Mr. White.” There he was, pleading again. The sob came out even though he didn’t want it to. He felt a little flash of anger at himself for not being able to control it, but with another stroke it had gone away and his mind’s eye saw simply white. 

He came, jerking up as hard as he could against the binds, and a few of the ropes must have rubbed against him hard because, riding it out, he could feel something like bruises forming over his thighs. He didn’t really care anymore; just wanted to arch into Mr. White and be attached to him forever.

He collapsed. Couldn’t keep himself up anymore. Even breathing hurt, but Mr. White’s voice was still in his ear, gentle and soft, and Jesse wondered in the afterglow if he should be suspicious of all of this, of falling into Mr. White’s hands like putty, but he didn’t have the energy. If he didn’t have Mr. White, then he had no one, and was nothing.

If this was how it had to be, he would accept it. He’d play his role. Live his role. Let Mr. White take it all.


End file.
